


Looking Back

by ani_bester



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Bad Parenting, Bittersweet, Childhood Memories, Forgiveness, Gen, Melancholy, Parenthood
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-27
Updated: 2020-05-27
Packaged: 2021-03-03 02:00:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,117
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24406936
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ani_bester/pseuds/ani_bester
Summary: A small moment in timeEngland is looking back painful at his time raising Alfred, while Alfred muses on the benfits of having England "raise" him.
Kudos: 16





	Looking Back

**Author's Note:**

> written for the 2020 #hetabang challenge
> 
> Please note the lack of shipping labels. This is not meant as any kind of USUK fic.

Through the decades, nations have used many words to describe America, England mused. Words such as loud, crass, obnoxious, exuberant, and overbearing sprung to mind. But, no one ever called him subtle. The reason why was abundantly clear as America snuck up behind the bench England sat on with all the grace and silence of an infant lion learning to hunt for the first time.  
  
Hoping a refusal to acknowledge his former charge would dissuade America from interrupting him, England stared down at the brittle pages of the leather bound book in his hand. He clung onto a fool’s hope that he could continue to enjoy the solitary bench in this secluded section of the walking path during the all too short afternoon break.  
  
America moved even closer  
  
“America,” England hissed, as he turned a yellowed page with care. “If you poke me with that finger, I will do something with it you will not like.”  
  
America huffed and murmured about England still having eyes in the back of the head. England sighed, set a leather bookmark delicately onto the page, closed the book with a soft thump, and turned to stare directly at the finger that had nearly poked his back. Just behind said finger loomed America’s face, demonstrating an astounding disregard for the concept of personal space. England met America’s impish grin with a neutral expression.  
  
“You know,” America said, eyes glittering with threatened mischief. “When you say things like that, it just makes me want to find out what you’d do.”   
  
England fixed America with a stare that, hundreds of years ago, might have given the young colony pause. Now though, all the glare earned England was a crooked smile and jovial, carefree, laugh.  
  
America did not, however, poke him. So, perhaps The Look still had some mitigating effect.  
  
America stepped easily over the back of the bench England sat on, and then plopped down with a loud sigh, invading England’s space as he stretched out his arms and legs and yawned.  
  
England inwardly moaned and said goodbye to his peace and quiet. 

“So what’s up?” America asked as he reached into his coat pocket and produced a soda can. 

England sighed, listening to the pop and hiss of the drink being opened. “I was enjoying a quiet moment alone with my thoughts,” he responded as he turned away from America. America, however, scooted closer, clearly not getting the hint, or more likely ignoring the hint. When England said nothing further, America began to jabber away, all while intruding even more into England’s space.  
  
England worked hard to keep his exasperation from coming out in one long sigh. This wasn’t new exactly; in fact, once upon a time, England hadn’t minded America’s lack of boundaries and had encouraged the lad to sit close and tell his stories. But, once upon a time, America had been small.   
Now, America reminded England of a grown puppy who did not realize how huge he’d become and still wanted to be in everyone’s lap. That thought gave him a small chuckle.  
  
“Well something finally got through the gloom.” America said loudly into England’s ear. “So you gonna tell me what’s really going on?” 

England blinked a few times and faced the possibility that America may have said something he had needed to hear. Then he straightened his back and shook his head. “There is this concept, Alfred, that perhaps I failed to teach you when you were younger, and if so I accept full responsibility for your lapse, but it is called privacy and it is valued by many.” 

America just snorted. “Has anyone ever told you your accent makes the word ‘privacy’ sound hysterical?”  
England finally let out the long withheld exhale of frustration. “No, you’re the only one I know rude enough to do so.” 

America laughed again and crossed his arms. “Insult me all you want old man, but I know why I really bother you.” 

England just managed to bite his tongue against the torrent of suggestions. Instead he managed to raise his bushy eyebrows and look unimpressed. “Oh? Enlighten me, America.”

America leaned down and cupped his hand around England’s ear as though whispering some conspiratorial secret. “Because every nation knows who raised me. And try as you do to be “gentleman” these days, I’m a constant reminder that you aren’t as dignified as you pretend, since after all,” he leaned back and spread his arms wide, speaking loudly now. “The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.”

England jerked back and began a scoffing laugh as he shook his head. “Oh no, no, America my boy. Not only did you fall far from the tree, you picked yourself up, ran further away from the tree, put an army between you and the tree, and –“ he cut off as the memory of America standing in front of his own rag tag army- an army England’s forces should have had no trouble overrunning- caused a lump to rise in his throat.

He looked away from America and clutched the worn book against his chest, trying to keep his face impassive, trying not to let his thoughts travel down any paths that would be bothersome at this particular moment.

Beside him, America cleared his throat. He had also looked away. “So, back to my question, what are you doing?” 

“As I said,” England murmured, “Just reading.”

“Actually, you said you were enjoying a quiet moment, but ok then, what’cha reading?” America asked. “Cause it’s got you looking pretty down. Hell, your expression was enough to make me worry something was gonna go down between us again if I didn’t know everything was aces.” He shrugged, ‘”And also, your boss doesn’t give you notes in ratty old books.”

England spluttered to buy time. He wanted to make a scathing comment about the self-centeredness of America’s assumption, but what he said instead was “That would worry you?” in a voice slightly less neutral than he wanted.

America stretched his long legs again and stared at the beige building in front of them, watching a light flicker a moment in a window. “Well yeah. We’re good allies, and I kinda don’t want that to change, you know? Plus, I’ve gotten used to you being on my side since- well you have been for a good chunk of my life.”

“A good chunk of your life,” England laughed. “America it’s only been about two hundred years give or take a few decades, and that very much depends on how you define “on your side.”

America nodded in agreement. “And that is a good part of my life.” He smiled brightly. “I’m super young as you are so fond of reminding me.”

”I have never in my life described anything as ‘super’,” England responded dryly. Then he huffed finally latching onto the self centeredness of his former colony rather than dwelling on any lingering parental feelings of protection that absolutely did not exist.

“You could say you are on my side you know,” England said, managing to glare. It had no effect so he continued on. “But I assure you, there’s no need to worry, at least as far as I have been told. I honestly think your concern is all in your head, lad. I’m not reading anything all that upsetting, just some old notes in a-“

“A dairy,” America exclaimed, finally catching a good look at the book in England’s hand. “Whoa, I didn’t know you kept those. You know, most people keep diaries online now.”

England huffed. “Well this one is from the 1700’s so I couldn’t really put it on a blog, now could I?” His stomach lurched as soon as he’d finished his sentence. He couldn't believe he’d let that slip. He prayed America would laugh at England’s sentimentality, or launch into some self-aggrandizing statement about his technology.

But no, damn it all. America’s blue eyes had widened and shone with a look England knew all too well. Once it had filled him with pride, seeing how eager America was to learn. And his colony had loved to find out new information. 

Oh yes, he knew the look well.  
  
America was curious.

“Is it about me? It’s about me isn’t it?” America practically bounced as he spoke, though, to England’s surprise, he did not attempt to wrench the diary away.” C’mon Iggy! It can’t be that bad. Let me see!”  
Turning away from America, England opened the old diary and looked at the page. He knew this only went one of two ways. He caved to America’s demands now, or he’d get pestered until he angrily caved to America’s demands later.

“Ok, fine, but this page and only this page, America!”

He turned to find America giving him a sloppy salute and, with a warning growl reminiscent of his country's national animal, handed over the diary. He wasn’t that worried though; more irritated at giving America his way. His entries were not emotional, but factual. The emotion that had driven him to record the specific event, that was all in his memory, not on the page. And it’s not like Alfred was one to read between-

“Oh, wow. You were that upset that I was taller than you?”

Bollocks.

England pursed his lips. “What in bloody hell makes you think I was upset. Does it say I was upset?”  
  
“No it just says I was taller than you now and that the first thing I asked for was sugar cane, which you had made sure to bring for me.”

“Exactly, just as it happened.”

Alfred pushed his glasses up and England waited, unwilling, and not trusting himself, to speak further.  
“Right, “ America answered, “just normal things, but if you wrote down normal things, it meant something not normal to you, and given you were looking at this page with an expression that screamed sadness, seems safe to assume it bugged you.”

England balled his hands into fists. “It was just an observation,” he hissed through clenched teeth. He closed his eyes to take a breath and then felt a hand on his knee, a gesture Amercia had not done since the growth spurt recorded in the diary. 

England half expected that when he opened his eyes, he’d see a knee high boy looking curiously up at him as he patted his mentor’s knee. But that was silliness. And when he did finally open his eyes, he saw America looking awkward. The hand was quickly withdrawn and neither commented on it.

“An observation on something that bothered you,” America pushed.

Then he sat up straighter and took a moment to wipe his glasses off. “To be fair, that moment stood out to me too.”

England began to ask why, but America silenced him with a cold laugh. 

“What? You think I don’t remember when you went from dotting caregiver to stern overseer? When all the rules I hated suddenly came down on my head?”

“You were an adult,” England said automatically. “I had to treat you as one.”

America remained silent, so England pushed forward with an explanation that was hundreds of years overdue. “It wasn’t just that. You weren’t just an adult. You were grown. Growing.” He sighed. “I knew you’d never sit on my knee again to listen to tales of Robin Hood, never need me to sit up with you during a storm, never need me for all the thousand little things I’d heard about human parents missing, but never thought I’d experience.”

He paused and took a deep breath. “But even more than just the pangs of seeing a child grow up, it hurt because of what we-“ England clenched his hands again until the lump in his throat passed.  
“I knew when I saw you then you were –or could be- a nation. One independent from me. And as you said, Alfred, the apple did not fall far from the tree. You are as stubborn and as prideful as I am, so I knew if you wanted independence, we would fight.” Arthur looked up, meeting Alfred’s eyes. “And so, with all my experience, all the worldliness, the pride, and arrogance of the Great British Empire,” England place one hand over the other to hide a small tremble that had started, “I did they exact wrong thing to try and keep you with me.”

Silence stretched between them until America made a sound that could have been a cough or laugh. England wasn’t sure.

“Yeah,” America murmured, looking away from England’s hands. “Someone should have told you that bit about trying to hold tightly and slipping between fingers“

England stiffened his back, but did not respond for a few seconds. Finally, he simply shook his head and held out his hand for the dairy. To his shock, America relinquished it without asking to look at any other pages.

“So you knew I’d be a nation?” America asked.

England shrugged and tucked the book back into his pocket. “There were a lot of signs I ignored. The obvious one being I created all those North American colonies, but rather than several little ones, I just had you, calling yourself America and trying to lay claim to more territory than even I had claimed.” He sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “The number of times I swatted you for encroaching across the Appalachians-“ England shook his head.

“You know that’s considered child abuse by a lot of people these days, spanking with a switch.” America said the words without anger, but there was a hint of something in his eyes that England could not work out.

“America, I pointed a loaded weapon at your head, and that was the least of it. I think everyone would agree I was rather shit at parenting.”

England had meant to come off jokingly dismissive, as though it was all ancient history and what others might think of how he had treated America as a child meant nothing to him. Instead, his voice cracked as he struggled to finish the sentence.

America rested his hand on England’s shoulder and England decided to let it stay there.  
“Aw C’mon old man, that was a war between us as Nations. Sure, ok, I had some personal issues with you too, but I mean, looking at all of you Europeans, I think I could have chosen a worse big brother, or whatever you are.” 

England snorted. “What a compliment. I’m so happy to know I was not the actual worst possible choice for some quasi ill-defined relationship that you don’t even know what to call.”

America let out one loud laugh and smacked England hard on the back. “You and your dry humor. I love it, but no, really, all things considered, I know you feel like you neglected me or whatever, and sure I missed you when you had to go, but I did understand, because I felt the need to be home whenever I was in the UK. Also, it was kinda cool.”

“Cool?” England repeated, bushy eyebrows rising again.

“Yeah cool! I took it to mean you trusted me to run things on my own, and I was really proud of that. That’s why I got so mad when he started trying to micromanage everything. It felt like a slap in the face.”

England started to try to object- to point out America’s idea of running things had heavily involved the black market- but America talked over him. “ I mean, no way would I have felt like I could stand on my own against European powers if you hadn’t let me be so self-sufficient for so long. And I was just thinking recently about how another kingdom might not have given me such a long leash; they would never have shown such trust. Under anyone else, I might never have been allowed to grow so much I could think of myself as my own nation.”

England found himself pulled shoulder to shoulder with America. “I still remember finding out my Declaration of Independence was either censured or altered in most other countries because my ideas were considered so wild at the time.”

“They were,” England grumbled.

“Yeah, so I heard,” he said, still clearly far too proud of himself for something that happened so long ago. “And, I heard later you took a lot of heat for it.”

England just nodded, opting not to think long on how furious the others had been that he’d lost control over a colony. Of course all that fury was also denial of the changes that were sweeping through their own populations at the time.

England got another squeeze on his shoulder from America and looked up into beaming blue eyes. “I just always figure I was lucky it was you, lucky you had such trust in me, and pride.” He took a breath and continued with more voice raising in volume and excitement, “Lucky your people were moving away from the monarchy, lucky you’d angered like, all of Europe so they wanted to help me to spite you, lucky that even your bad points worked to my advantage. I mean, if the point of parenting is to support the kid enough so they can stand on their own, then you did that. You just kinda . . . blew it in the last quarter a bit.” 

“A bit?” England repeated, barely breathing the word out. 

America paused and looked thoughtful a moment. ‘Well, maybe more than a bit. That switch sucked too.” He amended.

  
England took a moment to let himself realize that as odd as America had put it, America was trying to say England hadn’t been as shit as he thought he had been. For a moment, he wanted to hug back and apologize for not doing a better job, the switch, and so much more. Instead, he brushed away America’s arm and stood.

“Well, you are welcome then, that I was so arrogant and annoying that I drove most of Europe to your aide.”

America waited, but when England said nothing more, America stood. He took a moment to smooth out his coat and push his glasses further up the bridge of his nose. Then he turned to leave, but after one step, he paused.

“Oh, and one more thing, England.”

England tilted his head, bracing himself for another revelation or the expected utter condemnation of his parenting skills “Yes, Alfred?”

“I really want to know what you’d do!” With that, Alfred smirked, bent over, and poked England firmly in the belly.

England sat in utter shock for a few seconds, then, spluttering out every curse word he could think of, he took off after the idiot child nation.


End file.
